We enjoyed a rover in Naples whose name was Bonaparte, Napoleon, or the Little General, depending on who you asked. He was a kinda Basset, and belonged to Naples icon, Jack Breeden. (Jack's a guy you could see around town driving his Model T Ford) Napoleon roamed the city at will, collecting treats, greeting old friends, seemingly taking in the sights. Much like Jack.
One day we were in Cambier Park, doing our P/E program. I was the leader that day. Standing in front of the reluctant group, I was surprised when everyone began laughing. Looking down, I could see why. Bonaparte had expressed his opinion of exercise programs by peeing on my sweatpants clad leg.
Then there was the lady who walked her Poodle each day down to the PD at 8th and 8th South. This was her dog's favorite toilet area--again probably expressing an opinion. For such a small beast, it left prodigious piles of umpah. On day we mentioned to her that she should do something about the messy operation. She did. From then on, after the daily dump, she wiped the dog's rear end with a Kleenex.
Jack Bliss, then a Captain, had a large German Shepard named Prince. Prince had a game, each day, of racing Jack to work. Jack lived West of the hospital, and it took him but a few minutes to get to the PD. But, Prince, who knew all the shortcuts, would leave at the same time and beat Jack to work. Evidently he could tell time, too, as he'd appear after work to race Jack home.
One day we noticed that Prince's jaws were puffed up. He was holding something gently in his mouth. We wondered what until he lowered his head and spit out a baby duck, a little fuzzball that he'd come upon. Prince would stand guard while the little fellar foraged or did what little ducks do. But if a perceived threat presented, the baby would run to Prince's open jaws. Prince brought the duckling to work with him until it was just too large to carry.
Detective Ken Mulling had a big Shepard, too. Ken stopped by his house one afternoon to check on a birthday cake his wife Donna had baked. He placed the masterpiece on the kitchen table. Then he remembered they needed ice cream. On returning from the store, Ken could hear groans from inside the house even before he opened the door. There he found his trusted friend, lying on his side with a huge distended belly, moaning. And on the kitchen table, was a cake plate licked dishwasher clean.
(Ken recently left us. He'll be missed. God rest his soul)
Thanks Dave and Ray
One day we were in Cambier Park, doing our P/E program. I was the leader that day. Standing in front of the reluctant group, I was surprised when everyone began laughing. Looking down, I could see why. Bonaparte had expressed his opinion of exercise programs by peeing on my sweatpants clad leg.
Then there was the lady who walked her Poodle each day down to the PD at 8th and 8th South. This was her dog's favorite toilet area--again probably expressing an opinion. For such a small beast, it left prodigious piles of umpah. On day we mentioned to her that she should do something about the messy operation. She did. From then on, after the daily dump, she wiped the dog's rear end with a Kleenex.
Jack Bliss, then a Captain, had a large German Shepard named Prince. Prince had a game, each day, of racing Jack to work. Jack lived West of the hospital, and it took him but a few minutes to get to the PD. But, Prince, who knew all the shortcuts, would leave at the same time and beat Jack to work. Evidently he could tell time, too, as he'd appear after work to race Jack home.
One day we noticed that Prince's jaws were puffed up. He was holding something gently in his mouth. We wondered what until he lowered his head and spit out a baby duck, a little fuzzball that he'd come upon. Prince would stand guard while the little fellar foraged or did what little ducks do. But if a perceived threat presented, the baby would run to Prince's open jaws. Prince brought the duckling to work with him until it was just too large to carry.
Detective Ken Mulling had a big Shepard, too. Ken stopped by his house one afternoon to check on a birthday cake his wife Donna had baked. He placed the masterpiece on the kitchen table. Then he remembered they needed ice cream. On returning from the store, Ken could hear groans from inside the house even before he opened the door. There he found his trusted friend, lying on his side with a huge distended belly, moaning. And on the kitchen table, was a cake plate licked dishwasher clean.
(Ken recently left us. He'll be missed. God rest his soul)
Thanks Dave and Ray
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